36 years and what do ya get? another year older and deeper in debt. the bastard's body aches. how appropriate, it's his birthday. the fact that i spent all weekend splitting logs while the hammers of hell rained down on me in the woods somewhere makes me ache, i can feel old. not really old, just sore. more on the camping trip later. now i sleep at my desk.—the bastard
2 comments:
Happy Rite of Ascension (not a birthday but close enough to what you described your weekend to be, minus the pain sticks), ya bastid!
--DoM
it wasn't so much a right of ascension so much as it was a chopping logs with a hatchet and relying entirely on hitting it in the grain so it would aplit on the first try so i could stay dry. oh hey, i rhymed.
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